


Just Desserts

by Darksidekelz



Category: Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Cannibalism, M/M, Sticky, Torture, Vore, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksidekelz/pseuds/Darksidekelz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two paragons of depravity cross paths when they find that they're both hunting down the same prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

> There are two canon-cannibals in Beast Wars . . . this was the logical conclusion.  
> Probably the grossest thing I've ever written.

The cat was alone.  More than just alone, even.  He was well within Predacon territory and away from anyone who could come to his aid should he happen upon any trouble.  And he was scared.  He shouldn't have been.  It was a routine scouting mission.  He should have been out and back to base within a few cycles, no confrontations, no injuries, just him and the peaceful jungle.  But he hadn't known about the communications jammer, and he hadn't known about the mist - engineered by the Predacons to seep into the cracks in a bot's plating and interfere with their global positioning software, and more than those, he hadn't known about what lurked out there, just beyond his vision, lying in wait. 

Fortunately for the cat, Rampage found unsuspecting prey to be no fun - a quick burst of spark, a flicker of desperation, snuffed out before it had time to grow and flourish - a light snack, when what he desired was a full-course meal.  He'd been stalking Cheetor through the jungle mist for two cycles, mostly in silent anticipation, but every so often, just when the cat was beginning to think he was alone, Rampage would snap a twig, or rustle some bushes - small gestures, but enough of them compounded with the cat's own isolation would instill paranoia, dread, and finally terror.  He snipped his claws together with glee.  This was going to be quite the feast.

The time had at last come.  He could taste his victim's fear from where he crouched in the bushes in beast mode, several feet away.  The cat need but move a little bit closer . . .

It was quite a shame that cheetahs were so fast.  Cheetor perked up the moment he heard the telltale sound of transformation, ears swiveling towards the source in sudden understanding.  The cat was blasting off and away before Rampage had a chance to land the first hit, though a well-aimed missile was able to take out one of those jet boosters, sending him crashing to the ground.  He'd be grounded until he saw a CR chamber, but even on foot, he was faster than Rampage could ever hope to be.

That was okay.  The thrill of the chase was all part of the fun.

~~~

Tarantulas hadn't been expecting any visitors that day.  He never expected visitors.  That was the point of having a _secret_ laboratory.  Dinobot had managed to track him down once, but of course, he hadn't lived long enough after the fact to go blabbing to Megatron or his Maximal buddies, so it was a moot point.  He'd been more careful since then, however - sacrificed some pleasure for safety, built his webs further out from his lair, or deep within it, but never on his front door step.  There was no need for a welcome mat, and nothing screamed "Tarantulas Was Here" like a cyberweb full of corpses hanging on the lawn.

  And yet, despite how much care he'd taken to keep his secret lair a _secret,_ this stupid cat had somehow come stumbling right through his door.  On the bright side, at least he'd done his stumbling into one of said webs.

It was a familiar sight - the yellow Maximal stuck to the electronic webbing, struggling feebly in an effort to escape.  Really, the only difference this time around was that both parties were Transmetal now.  Tarantulas wondered how different it would be, pictured the satisfying crunch of metal, as his sharp fangs pierced right through armored plating, to indulge in the juices within.  His mouth watered at the thought.  Maybe this time he'd be allowed to feed without interruptions. 

"Oh man, you have _got_ to be kidding me," the Maximal groaned.  "Again?!"

"I've been told I'm irresistible,"  Tarantulas replied with a snicker, making his way to the web on eight legs.  "How fortunate I am, that you've landed on my plate not once, but twice.  I'll be quicker about it this time.  I've come to find it's more fun when your prey is squirming this way and that, ah, just like that!"

Cheetor , much to Tarantulas's dismay, ceased his struggling once called out on it, trying his hardest to not entice the spider further.  _That_ was a vain effort.  There was nothing about this situation that _wasn't_ enticing, from the cat's lithe figure, to the bondage which trapped him so, his fear, the thought of the wonderful sounds he'd make once Tarantulas began digging his claws into him, the taste of life-blood in his mouth - Tarantulas mounted the web, crawling over Cheetor's prone form, claws rubbing together in anticipation.  This was going to be amazing.

"Oh for crying out loud!  Why does everyone want to _eat_ me today?!"

Tarantulas let loose a wild cackle, relishing in the way the body beneath him tried to pull away, only to find there was nowhere to go.  He ran a long, golden chelicera over Cheetor's metallic cheek, gently - he didn't want to do anything to spoil his meal, after all; already he could taste the wave of fear emanating from the Maximal's spark.  "You should be flattered!  I bet you're delicious!"  And then he realized what the young bot had just said.  "Wait, 'everyone?'"

Seeing an opportunity to stall his encroaching demise, Cheetor seized it, nodding with extreme vigor.  "Yes, you're the second Pred to go after me today, you creep.  You and -"

"Here kitty kitty."

This time, Tarantulas froze at the same time Cheetor did.  He knew that voice all too well, could still remember the way it's owner had torn him limb-from-limb upon their first meeting.  He could _still_ feel it sometimes, the heat of the sparks that had jumped from his plating beneath the friction, the buckling of metal, the black clouds that filled his processor, right before he slipped into stasis lock - as much as he liked inflicting pain, Tarantulas wasn't much of a masochist.

"You brought _Rampage_ here?!" he hissed.  "How could you have done such a thing?!"

Cheetor seemed to miss the fear, the threat, the manic tension in Tarantulas's voice - that, or he held zero sympathy for his would-be killer.  Pit, he sounded almost _proud_ when he said, "I was running away, and this looked like a good hiding place.  How was I to know _you'd_ be here?  Maybe I lucked out?"

There was no time to banter.  Tarantulas had preparations to make, and not much time to do so.  He leapt from the web, and skittered into the shadows.  With any luck, Rampage would satisfy his perverse lust for suffering once he'd finished with the Maximal, and ignore the obvious signs of his own presence.  And if not, Tarantulas wasn't going to be caught unguarded again, let alone in his own lair, that much he swore.

~~~

His prey had led him to a cave - foolish thing; it had only succeeded in trapping itself.  Rampage was rather looking forward to severing its limbs, crushing its skull between his claws.  Upon discovering the web, however, he felt a change of plans was in order.  The cat could wait; he clearly wasn't going anywhere.  But if there was a web, then someone had to have _made_ it.  Two meals for the price of one -  what wasn't to like?  He was even fairly certain he could get away with murdering his fellow Predacons for fun.  Megatron would be hard-pressed to mourn the passing of either of the spiders, and even if he _did_ , he'd be quick to get over it.

He made his way deeper into the cave, unsurprised to find signs that it had been lived in.  The bones of animals-devoured lay scattered here and there across the floor, and even farther in, he came across a stash of raw energon, embedded within the walls, some of it partially-harvested.  No sign of the spider though. 

When he came to the work station, stocked with a small manner of computational devices, dark secrets visible on their screens, doomsday weapons, vials of unknown liquids, odds and ends that Rampage could never hope to identify, a plan began to creep into his head.   The cave was big, and the spider knew it well.  He could easily hide himself away within its walls.  Perhaps it would be better to lure it out instead?

With a cruel smile in his spark, he kicked over one of the tables, sending its contents scattering to the floor.  He smashed monitors with his bare hands, spilled containers, did his all to bring chaos to such pain-staking order, until at last a voice cried out, "Enough!"

He turned to face the sound; the spider was on the ground some fifty feet behind him.  Pity it was the purple one.  He was a coward to be sure, but had passed out so quickly during their last encounter.  He'd have to find a way to prolong the experience this time.  On the bright side, as far as he was aware, Tarantulas had officially parted ways with the Predacons some time ago; Megatron couldn't punish him for having his way with an enemy mech, now could he?  With purposeful steps, he marched forward, taking pleasure in the way the spider began to shake on his many legs.  Perhaps he hadn't thought this through very well.

The spider, at last deciding that Rampage had gotten close enough, released his wheels with a clang, and sped away, back towards the direction of the entrance.  Rampage pursued on foot, not bothering to transform to beast mode.  He doubted very much that the spider would abandon his home so easily, and so long as he remained hesitant to do so, he was trapped at Rampage's mercy.

He rather should have expected that it was a trap.  Tarantulas was low to the ground; he sped right between a pair of rocks with ease, but when Rampage followed, he found himself suddenly incapable of going further, and equally incapable of pulling away.  Some kind of magnetic force was drawing him to the web, which had been invisible mere moments before.  He didn't like feeling so trapped; it was too much like being locked away in that stasis pod by the Maximals, but the spider didn't scare him.  He could still turn the situation around.

A wild cackle pulled him from his thoughts.  Speaking of the spider . . .

"Well, _that_ was easier than I'd expected!  Look at you there, all wrapped up like a present!"

"Yes," Rampage conceded.  "It appears you . . . got me.  The question is - can you keep me?"

"Don't be ridiculous!  Even _you_ can't break out of that!"  He cackled again, skittering closer, albeit cautiously.  "But it would be wise to dispose of you quickly."  He circled the web, like a vulture.

"Say Rampage," he began with curiosity and a twinge of malice.  A new idea must have struck him, one that he must have thought torturous.  Rampage welcomed the possibility.  "Do you suppose I could become immortal by feeding on your fluids?"  The sound of eight metal feet clattered on the cave floor, behind his back - just out of sight. 

It was an intriguing notion.  He'd always enjoyed the taste of live prey, mech or otherwise, but never before had _he_ been the devoured.  With his regeneration abilities, he never _could_ be, but for a short while, he could pretend at least.  And he'd admit that he too was curious about the supposed healing potential of his blood, albeit for different reasons than Tarantulas was.

"Try it."

"Excuse me?"  The spider sounded surprised.  Naturally, he'd never run into such willing prey before.

"Go on, take a bite.  I promise, I won't even fight back."

Tarantulas hesitated for a long moment, probably worried that Rampage wasn't good as his word, and while his arms were momentarily pinned, he still had six free legs on his back that could cause a world of damage should he feel like.  Eventually, however, Tarantulas seemed to figure scientific discovery plus an easy meal outweighed the risk.  He crawled up the web, and over Rampage's larger body, coming to a rest with golden fangs at a flat shoulder - as close as he could get to a primary energon line from this angle.  Rampage even stretched his neck to the side, maximizing the space Tarantulas had to work with.

When he at last did dig in, it felt amazing.  The stabbing pain as those massive fangs sunk into his thick hide, the paralyzing sting of the venom spreading from the wound, liquefying flesh and metal alike - he couldn't actually feel the bits of his own mutilated body as they were pulled away by those deadly claws, but he could hear the sound of metallic jaws chewing him, ingesting him.  His world was on fire, and it was magnificent, sending a pulse of pleasure throughout his entire frame, while his own regenerative properties made quick work of the venom.  Tarantulas bit into him once again, in the same place, to restart the cycle.

"This - you are amazing!  I feel - strong!  Yes!" the spider managed to spare some praise between stuffing his face.

The heat and sensation were growing to be too much as Tarantulas continued dining upon him.  Charge built up throughout his frame - pain, pleasure, pain, until it was enough to drive him mad with desire.  He needed to rid himself of it somehow.  His interface panel snapped open with a hiss, half-of its own accord in compliance with his needs.  It was actually enough to give Tarantulas pause.

"What-?"

"Transform and fuck me," Rampage growled, voice deep and heavy with need.  The idea of _Tarantulas_ , of all bots, being unnerved by depravity was laughable, but he pulled away from his meal, as if frightened by the events he'd been caught up in.

"What?  No!" he snapped, and crawled higher up onto Rampage's back, away from the offending panel nonetheless.  What a pity.  The spider had moved into perfect range of his own extra legs.  If he didn't want to play along, then the game was over.  With one heavy blow, Tarantulas was sent barreling forward, face pressed tight into his own web, legs flailing wildly.

"No?" Rampage whispered, a deceptively sensual sound, as Tarantulas struggled to free himself - no easy feat with three of Rampage's legs pushing him down.  "I'm sorry, did you think you had a choice?"  He leaned his head closer, and snapped his beak tightly around the edge of a chelicera, breaking off a piece of the limb.

With a pained howl, Tarantulas released the web, sending them both falling to the ground.  Rampage recovered first, and gripped the spider tight by one of his hind legs, flinging him down the hall and into a cave wall; he screamed at the impact, inadvertently shifting back to root mode, just where Rampage wanted him.  Actions fueled by desire now, he strode forward, ready to take what he wanted from his prey.

~~~

Tarantulas rolled on the ground in pain.  How had that gone so wrong so quickly?  One moment he was gorging himself on the most delicious meal of his life, the next, his prey was turning on him - had actually had the gall to take a bite out of _him_!  He was missing a fair chunk out of what was now his leg - not a clean break, it would be a pain to repair.  If he survived this event at all.  He felt like he was turning into the next Waspinator, with how many times he'd had to repair his body from scratch.

There wasn't time to dwell, however.  Rampage was soon bearing down on him, and Tarantulas, acting solely on instinct, flailed arms and legs at the monster, trying to protect his softer belly.  In response, Rampage managed to get a death grip on his right arm, the metal crunching painfully beneath.  Tarantulas braced himself for what he knew was coming.

And indeed, the arm was abruptly ripped from the socket, a shower of sparks and energon spilling behind, accompanied by Tarantulas's own shrieks.  The arm was promptly discarded, and Rampage moved on to the next hindering limbs, taking hold of two of Tarantulas's extra legs in on hand.

"No don't-" he protested, but the cry was cut off by a rush of static, as Rampage crushed the limbs to scrap beneath that iron grip.  At last, spurred by immense pain, Tarantulas stopped struggling, remaining limbs curling up weakly around his body of their own accord.  The black clouds of stasis lock were already beginning to color his vision, and he lay his head limply against the floor of the cave.

"No. That's no good," Rampage crooned.  The next thing Tarantulas knew, was the soft plink of some kind of thick liquid bouncing off his face.  Energon.  Weakly, he lifted his head to look.

Rampage had sliced open a hole in his own forearm, and was holding it over Tarantulas's face. 

"You said it made you feel strong, did you not?  Well drink up, then.  I want you awake for this next part."

He didn't like the foreboding threat behind Rampage's words, but he also didn't like the idea of leaving himself completely at the brute's mercy.  Mustering all the strength that he could, he leaned up, grabbing onto Rampage's offered wrist with his remaining hand, and sucking the lifeblood into his waiting mouth.  Already, he felt the pain dim, far away, as if felt through a veil; the blackness clouding his vision subsided, but still, he felt dizzy and weak; he couldn't fight back like this. 

"Now, open your panel for me."

Tarantulas obeyed, if only partially. He opened his array, and even bared his valve, but his spike, he kept safely locked away.

"Hmm?  What's this?" Rampage asked, expression neutral enough as to be frightening.  Was he mad or amused, and would his feelings have any effect on the outcome?  "No spike?"

"Like I'd give you access to one more thing to rip off," Tarantulas said with a surprisingly brave snort.  Rampage seemed satisfied with the answer, at least.

"Very well, we'll do this your way." 

When the mech deployed his own spike, however, Tarantulas began to rather regret his decision.  The thing was huge; it would be a tight enough fit already, but that wasn't the end of his woes.  The appendage was barbed, and adorned with a small series of sharp ridges, designed to tear rather than pleasure.  He could've replaced his spike if need be; this was going to hurt much worse. 

"You'll be wanting this," Rampage said, offering his wrist again.  The wound had already closed, but Tarantulas was quick to slice another hole into the appendage, latching on with his mandibles, and drinking Rampage in with a wild fury.  Anything to dull the impending pain.

And pain it was.  Rampage entered him with no preparation and no warning, thrusting fast and deep, seating himself in one go, heedless of anything that got in the way.  Tarantulas's nodes screamed as that spike tore through them, even with the pain dulled as it was by Rampage's regenerative blood, and he kicked out blindly with his legs, trying to get his body away from that pain.  It didn't work.

Rampage pulled out just as quickly as he'd gone in, snapping calipers and shattering the remaining nodes, bringing with him a trail of energon.  "How does that feel?" he purred, thrusting in again.  Tarantulas lost his grip on Rampage's arm this time, and cried out, groping madly for that life-giving limb.

"You don't have to tell me," he said, building up a steady rhythm as Tarantulas writhed beneath him, digging his mandibles in enough to hurt.  "I can feel it - your pain, your fear.  It's intoxicating."  A heavy groan cut off his words, and he picked up the pace.

Even with Rampage's blood pouring down his throat in a constant stream, Tarantulas could feel the edges of his vision going; he wasn't going to last much longer at this rate.  He was being torn apart from the inside, amplifying the violent  injuries he'd already suffered.  He needed a stronger dose of Rampage if he was going to survive Rampage.

He wrapped his remaining legs around Rampage's shoulders, pushing him down.  Mercifully, Rampage allowed himself to be moved; Tarantulas wouldn't have won _that_ struggle, not weak as he was.  With a clawed hand, he reached up, tearing a hole in Rampage's primary energon line, and pressed him closer, latching on to the wound and drinking all he could, anything to ease the pain.

Rampage laughed, a gurgling, static-laced sound with his throat punctured as it was, and shifted his position, so that he was more flat on the ground.  It weakened his leverage for thrusting, slowing the pace and allowing most of his weigh to rest on Tarantulas.  It was marginally less painful, though he didn't know if that was from the more potent dose of energon, the adrenaline rush at the over-exertion of his body, or otherwise.  He squirmed a bit, feeling more crushed and exhausted than anything by this point.

Rampage had only a few more thrusts in him - one, two, three - he bucked, burying himself deep within Tarantulas's valve, and releasing his own fluids in overload.  The pressure was intense, but Tarantulas was past the point of pain by now. 

Rampage, momentarily spent, collapsed atop him, before rolling off, peeling Tarantulas away from his throat in the process.  The wound closed within kliks, though the only way to tell was by the sound of Rampage's breaths, as the static and hitching gradually subsided.  He was much too exhausted to see for himself, and with his drug cut off, the pain was beginning to rapidly kick in again.

Hopefully this was over.  He had the energy for neither fear nor pain.  Rampage would grow bored, the arachnoids would come and make their repairs, and he would promptly find a new lair.  Only, Rampage didn't seem to be leaving.  The brute sat up slowly, taking his time to turn back to Tarantulas, and reach out with one of those deadly, red hands.  Tarantulas tried to flinch away from the inevitable contact, but instead of causing pain, he began to caress, hand delicately painting circles over Tarantulas's abdomen.

"What-" he muttered weakly.

"It's time for me to take back what's mine."

Apparently, Tarantulas had been wrong about his energy levels.  His optics lit up to full, terrified, and he began squirming anew, trying vainly to get away.  A heavy hand on his stomach secured him in place.

"Ah ah, you didn't think I'd let you gorge yourself on my fluids, while I got nothing?  It's my turn to feed."

Tarantulas screamed static once more as blunt fingers dug into his abdomen, tearing him open violently.  The sensation Rampage's sharp beak digging into his fuel tanks was the last he felt before he world finally turned to black.

~~~

Cheetor wasn't sure how lucky he'd been to run into Tarantulas.  On the one hand, he'd managed to keep Rampage busy long enough for Rattrap and Silverbolt to arrive on the scene and break him free.  On the other hand, in the process, he'd bore witness to what was likely the most disturbing thing he'd ever seen - Pit, he'd likely never again see anything as traumatic as two cannibals going at each other, even if he lived to be four million.

Tarantulas had mercifully ceased his screaming - had ceased moving altogether, in fact, while Rampage continued to tear away at his center.  Cheetor couldn't avert his gaze, as much as he would have liked.

"What do you want to do, kid?" Rattrap asked softly.  Even a streetwise mech like Rattrap seemed phased by the bits of the horror show he'd just witnessed.

"I'd never imagined anyone capable of such depravity," Silverbolt added.  Unlike the other two, he was completely unable to face the display of id-fueled perversion.

Cheetor should have left the spider to his fate.  He _had_ been about to suffer the same fate at Tarantulas's hands, after all, and he knew that sooner or later, the spider would come to hurt someone that he cared about.  But he was better than the spider.  He was a Maximal, and he wasn't about to let anyone be eaten alive, no matter how vile they were.  He brought his gun hands together, and fired, hitting Rampage square on.

The monster looked up from his meal, vivid pink energon dripping from his mouth in a brutal display, while his acid green optics glowed bright with the extra charge.  If he'd had a mouth, he would have been smiling.

"We're all gonna die," Rattrap squeaked, and then the three Maximals turned tail and fled, Rampage in hot pursuit, high on the pain and fear he'd just devoured, as well as his own fluids, albeit indirectly.  The Maximals were no match for Rampage on their own, but fighting stronger opponents was a risk they took every day.  It would take cunning and wit to emerge victorious, but fortunately for the Maximals, they held those qualities in no short supply.  Once free from the confines of the cavern, the real battle would begin.  They would come out on top, and Rampage would return to the Darksyde, with his tail between his legs, where Megatron would fail to understand why he was so pleased, even in his defeat.

In the chaos of their exit, not one of the mechs present paid any mind to the slew of arachnoids that gathered within the tunnels, grabbing pieces of their fallen master, ready to begin the arduous, and oft-repeated task of reassembly.

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write that? @.@;


End file.
